


Powder Blue

by illusion_flight



Category: the GazettE
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illusion_flight/pseuds/illusion_flight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes he can be a bit dense, but oh, well, Uruha is Uruha. And if nothing else, he is kind of person who cares about the outcome the most. That´s what´s important and that is what counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Powder Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Rating: PG- 13
> 
> Originally written on October 8th, 2009.

It seems Aoi has always had a thing for Uruha. And there were some parts of _the thing_ he was able to talk openly about. Those words he spoke could mean everything. They could also mean nothing at all, but…

However, no one has ever really noticed his words, no one has ever rose an eyebrow over the fact that during every interview, Aoi used to mention Uruha at least once.

 _It´s because they are both the members of the same band, they are both guitarists._

An interviewer said for the 5th time and closed his notepad.

Uruha, immersed in his own creative world, was completely oblivious to everything. And by the time he finally debouches from under a deaf surface and then realizes there might be something else to all he reads during the long nights he spends alone in his vast apartment, the true reason behind the other´s words is gone. It is lost in Uruha´s daydream. Everything what the dark headed guitarist has meant was swept away. It has been blown off like powder, like the finest pollen is when a wind comes.

But since the blond guitarist regrets he didn´t notice earlier, he tries his best to trace the only thing left. Because there is always a mark of past things left, no matter how strong the hurricane that came was. That´s why he shoots weak smiles to the furthest corner across the whole practice room where the other strums his guitar quietly. That´s why he goes to see Aoi off to a nearest underground station, while the older has his car in the garage. That´s why he refuses to see movies in the cinema with Reita only because Aoi has told him that there is a good movie in the TV in the evening. That´s why he is cheerful every time, the dark head asks him for help.

However, Aoi gave up and seemingly nothing can change his decision. No power can move him back on the path he walked before. Uruha understands that and Uruha feels blue. A shadow falls over the younger´s eyes. They become blind, his ears are deaf again. His songs resonate with violent despair.

He doesn´t suspect a nearing turn-point. He doesn´t see a thing, he doesn´t know his blue is the force that can move even the worst obstacles. He doesn´t hear that there is Aoi´s faint voice having hard time while asking him out for a dinner. He doesn´t see that there is Aoi, at 3 a.m. waiting for him in a hall of their company, only so Uruha can bring Ruki and his ideas about their upcoming release down verbally. That there is Aoi standing at his doors, when the blonde actually called Reita to bring him his CDs he forgot at his flat last time he was visiting.

Uruha complains to his mother over the phone. Lately he feels down and he lacks colours and scents.

 _Kouyou, you are hopeless, darling._

She replies with smiling voice and hangs up.

Uruha´s mother is right. She is right because every mother is right when it comes to her own children. But the man frowns and mumbles she is clueless.

And although it turns out to be the right opposite after all, although he is the only one clueless here while his feet feel like jelly as Aoi presses him hard against the early morning practice room´s cold wall, nibbles on his jaw and then returns back with his plump lips to Uruha´s which taste like cherry, he would just never admit the truth of her words.

Uruha is a diehard and he doesn´t acknowledge it, not even after he finds himself awake in his bed, staring at the one next to him, at his beamy dark hair, at his smooth skin, at his serene breath. But it´s OK, because Uruha can finally fall asleep, content that a wind of another kind came and blew away his blue.

And well, because Uruha is Uruha, he can´t see and he can´t hear a thing, his happiness is this time´s limit and he can care less about the doubt hanging over his sometimes-a-bit-lost mind.


End file.
